The Ides of March
by ItsHeroTime
Summary: The final battle for Hoover Dam is about to begin between the NCR and Caesar's Legion. Yet Caesar himself cannot participate in the battle, as he has one more enemy to challenge: his own mortality.
1. March 1 2282

The Ides Of March

(Created after playing through Fallout New Vegas several times. On every playthrough I underwent that didn't end up aligning itself with the Legion, I was always bothered by the fact that Caesar is strangely absent from the endgame. Built up as a central antagonist, or at the very least a main character, his presence is not felt during the build up towards Hoover Dam. Why, I wondered, was that? Here's my interpretation of events.)

March 1 / 2282

Cowards die many times before their actual deaths.

Placing my hands tightly on my knees, I leaned forward in the throne, struggling to control the anger that was clawing its way up my throat. "Not only did you manage to utterly fail in your designated task." I started, my expression one of cold contempt. It was an expression that I had ended up getting a lot of practice with.

"Not only did you fail to bring the Khans under my banner. Not only did you fail to find a suitable replacement for their absence." I furrowed my brow, and stared at the quaking man before me. Karl had seen better days, obviously: his clothes were ragged, his expression was wild, his body was starved, and he generally didn't let out so much as a whimper in my presence. The past few days had not been kind to him.

The next few weeks would not be kind to him, either.

Karl finally managed to let out a few syllables, staring up towards me with his hollow eyes. "Please, Seezar…"

I growled, and slammed my fist down on the armrest next to me. "Kaisar, damn it!" Karl jumped, and then bent his head low again. Glancing over to me, Lucius didn't let his face betray his emotions, but I know what he thought. I was acting like a petulant and grumpy old man.

I was Caesar. I had to be better than my age when before my Legion.

But the pronunciation was Kai-sar. How hard was it to memorize?

After a few moments to tense silence, I relaxed my fist and leaned back in the throne. "Not only did you manage to accomplish all of that, but now I hear word of the Great Khans leaving the Mojave entirely, out of NCR territory." Shaking my head, I glared at Karl expectantly. "What do you think that means?"

The failed Frumenatarii spy turned his head back up to me, looking for all the world like a beaten dog awaiting that final, relieving kick. Karl bit his lip, and slowly started to murmur something incoherent. I felt a slight sneer come across my lip, and immediately tried to remove it from my face. Caesar, the old Caesar, didn't sneer. It was unbecoming. "If you're going to grovel, do it properly."

Karl nodded viciously at that, and tried to push himself to his feet. He didn't want to risk my anger anymore than he already had. Brave decision. Not enough to make up for his cowardice. "Caesar…" he began, pronouncing my name correctly this time, "I think we can still salvage the situation. With the Great Khans gone, we no longer have to worry about them when we take the Dam."

Immediately, I stopped him. "Without the Great Khans-" I roared, pushing myself to my feet now. Lucius started at this, but he quickly corrected himself and stayed at his position by the throne. His rightful place. I didn't need his help getting up off a fucking chair.

"Without the Great Khans," I repeated, taking a step towards Karl now, "the NCR no longer have a thorn in their backside, and can turn all of their soldiers East. With the Fiends dead, with House gone, with the Brotherhood their allies, the Bear now only has to concentrate on us!"

Karl shrank under my fury, and probably would have turned and started running had two Praetorian guards not stepped up behind him and placed a hand on each of his shoulders. Disgusting. This man had been entrusted by Vulpes to bring the tribes of the region around to our cause, no small task in the grand scheme of things. And here he was now, cowering from me like a scared animal.

Looking at him up and down, I shook my head. "What happened? What the fuck happened to justify all of this?"

Glancing quickly towards each Praetorian guard, Karl then fearfully turned his eyes towards mine and saw the fury raging inside of them, hot coals bursting into flame. But I was also curious as to what the hell could drive off one of my Frumentarii from their given assignment. Vulpes trained them well, and it was not often that they had so utterly failed me.

Finally, Karl spoke, dropping his eyes from my angry gaze. "It was a few weeks back. The Great Khans were preparing for battle, and Papa Khan – their leader – was growing receptive to the idea of an alliance. And then someone else showed up at Red Rock Canyon."

A moment's pause. "Well?" I exclaimed, folding my arms before me.

"A woman." Karl spit out.

An even longer pause. I struck him.

The man had not been suspecting it, and my unarmed fist connected with his jaw quite easily. Had I been a few decades younger, Karl would be knocked on the ground with a nasty bruise already showing. As it was, the punch took a lot more out me than I had planned, and as he fumbled back in surprise, I suddenly felt weak to the bones. My vision darkened momentarily, and it took an embarrassing amount of effort to continue standing as I was now.

The Praetorians had caught Carl during his fall, and held him tightly now as I tried to regain my breath. "A woman?" I shouted when I felt I had the strength. The shout carried easily on the chill breeze, a side effect of the winter we had just experienced.

February had been a tough month for my Legion. Disturbing reports crept across the Colorado daily, reports that incited my anger more often than not. The common legionnaire did not pay the reports much mind, confident in their Caesar. Confident in me. They did not truly understand, though. Their tribes had all been easily conquered, assimilated into my Legion with little or no difficulty. Arizona had been the easy part of my journey to creating an empire. Now I faced the last legs of that journey, New Rome beckoning to me across the Rubicon, with the Bear baring its teeth before my army.

My old Legate was a testament to the Bear's strength and my own failings.

And now a woman was thwarting my best laid plains. A fucking woman.

"She was different!" Karl howled, quick to reassure me. Too late. He tried to pull himself out of the Praetorian's grips, but that was impossible in his state. "She was clever and strong! She found one of the tribe's weak links, a Khan named Regis, and exploited him! Soon the whole tribe was standing against me! I couldn't do a thing to stop her!"

Gritting my teeth, I shook my head. "She sounds like a better Frumentarii than you. What was her name?" At the very least, I could have her assassinated. My legionnaires were skilled at hunting across the open wastes of the Mojave. It wouldn't take long, even with NCR patrols constantly sweeping west of the Colorado River.

"I don't know her name!" Karl screamed. "She just introduced herself as a courier!"

I was silent for a very long time.

I had many couriers working in my service. Some of my best spies posed as employees for the Mojave Express, traveling across Vegas to deliver my own personal messages. Hell, my best spy had been a courier before he vanished into the Divide. But I did not employ female Frumentarii.

Which meant that this was the Courier. The Courier.

The Courier that had carried the Platinum Chip, the key to a Securitron army that had been locked away underneath my very feet. The Courier that spat in my face when I asked her to destroy said army, and instead used it for her own personal use. The Courier that had been shot in the head by Mr. House's own protégé, who then subsequently tracked him across the wasteland and got me to crucify him outside my war camp. The Courier that had helped stop my White Legs from destroying the Malpais Legate and the remains of the New Caananites. The Courier that had, in essence, completely fucked me over.

I was not very happy to hear of this latest crime against my Legion.

My heart was pounding, my blood boiled, and the only thing that I could rage against was the man cowering before me, responsible for this great failure. Needless to say, I struck him. I struck him again, and again, and again, and again.

And when the Praetorians dragged his bloodied carcass away from my tent, I did not feel victorious. I felt sick to the stomach.

The only victories that I gain anymore are the ones against my own followers.


	2. March 4  2282

The Ides of March

March 4 / 2282

As a rule, men worry more about what they can't see than about what they can.

Today, Lanius arrived at the Fort.

I watched the arrival from atop Fortification Hill, right outside my war tent. Praetorian guards, Lucius at my side, surrounded me but I still felt unprotected as the gray light of the early morning hit upon the Legion war camp. Almost all of my legionnaires had gathered at the North gate to the camp, compelled to see the arrival of our dreaded Legate.

Men feared the dangerous right up until the point that they needed dangerous. After that, it was all open arms and immense gratitude until the dangerous were no longer needed. Such was the pitiful lives of the Profligates outside my rule, leeching off the protection of the Bear until my Legion no longer threatened them. My Frumentarii had confirmed as much after the first battle for Hoover Dam. The people of Vegas were ready to revolt against the NCR, but only after they used their benefactors to stop me. Such people could not be allowed to govern themselves.

I would not stop until the flag of the Bull hung from the immense spire of the Lucky 38, would not stop until my legionnaires brought the casinos down into dust and rubble, would not stop until the NCR was pushed back to the west coast and driven into the sea.

I wondered if Lanius shared those same ideals.

His war party looked immense, but I knew that this was just a fraction of the full Legion's might. The Legate surrounded himself only with the best, and as I watched his veterans enter into my camp, the sun shining upon their metal armor, their guns and machetes catching the light from nearby fires, I couldn't help but feel a worn smile cross my face.

It had been a long time since I first found the Blackfoot tribe, groveling in the dirt like the animals that they were, and my army of slaves had come far since then. Finally, my Legion once again had an army worthy of capturing a mighty capital, and a general worthy enough to bring us a glorious victory.

Vulpes was less excited about the idea.

Before the Legate and I discussed matters of state and war, he offered to begin the first of many sacrificial offerings to the gods, praising them and asking for a mighty battle worthy of song. I could hardly refuse, and so the Legion gathered on Fortification Hill, hundreds upon hundreds of legionnaires on bended knee before the flag of the Bull. We had torn down the tents and the makeshift arena in anticipation of the Legate's arrival, and so we barely had enough space to fit the veteran legionnaires upon the hill. The recruits, slaves, and children each relied upon their own ceremonies, conducted by my loyal priestesses spread out amongst the camp.

I stood to the side, my arms folded, my face the perfect countenance of calm determination, with the Praetorians closed tightly around me. On one side stood Lucius, the captain of my guard. On the other stood Vulpes Inculta, leader of the Frumentarii and the master of the spy network. It was an impressive entourage.

But the Legate stood alone.

A mighty bonfire had been lit in front of my tent, the smoke and embers drifting upwards into the red noon sky. The Bull standard danced above the inferno, its emblem stretching and curling and twisting like the animal it depicted rather than a piece of fabric. And, to the right of the bonfire, were seven prisoners of war, soon to be sacrificed in the name of my Legion.

Standing in front of the fire, back turned to the legionnaires, was Lanius, the greatest of my soldiers. He was certainly an imposing figure, a head taller than the average man, armed in shining gold armor with the massive Blade of the East upon his back.

With the ceremonial mask upon his face, he almost looked like the god Mars himself.

But I knew better. I knew what dwelled underneath the mask. It was the one advantage I had over the Legate.

Lanius slowly turned about to face the legionnaires, the fire reflecting off his mask to make it shine and glow like the Sun. He didn't say a word, but instead he bowed his head low, prompting his soldiers to do the same.

"When you die, he will make an awful Caesar."

Embarrassingly, I jumped at the words, delivered as a low whisper into my ear. But it was only Vulpes, leaning in close to me with his eyes fixated on the Legate. Lucius raised an eyebrow at this, but took the hint and stepped back, leaving me alone with the Fox.

I glared at Vulpes, but he didn't return the gaze. "You presume much about me and my Legate. I would check your poisonous tongue before it gets you killed." Turning back to Lanius, I shook my head angrily. The leader of the Frumentarii was a snake; as he must be, but his endless talk of conspiracy and treason was enough to draw my anger during these last few critical days. I needed everything prepared and set when I reach the Rubicon, and I couldn't do that if the Fox kept reminding me of the dragon on my heels.

"I don't presume, my lord." Smiling, my spymaster turned his dark eyes to me. "I know. That is my duty, and I do it well."

The Legate walked over to the first prisoner in line, a man dressed in a white jumpsuit with the two-headed Bear upon his back. An engineer for Hoover Dam, apparently caught while taking an illegal smoke break on the far side of the Dam. He couldn't stop himself from letting out a terrified squeal as Lanius approached him, a long skinning knife in his iron hands.

Watching the disemboweling was not sickening to me, after all this time, but I glanced away all the same towards Vulpes, watching the same event with as much dignity as he could muster. Vulpes Inculta was no stranger to this kind of brutality either, but he didn't have the same religious fervor my Legate had, or at least pretended to have.

Inclining his head towards the butcher, he continued yet again with his petty manipulations. "I speak of the future, Caesar, be it immediate or far. When you die and return to the heavens, he will take your place unless killed himself. And he will drive us into the ground."

After the screaming stopped, the Legate threw the spilled carcass onto the bonfire. The fire crackled hungrily as the engineer fell atop the burning timbers, swallowing up the man before he could let out another scream for desperate aid. I had half a mind to throw Vulpes on there, just to get him to shut the fuck up. "If any of my lieutenants are in doubt, Vulpes, it is you. Where exactly do your loyalties lie?"

For once, I seemed to silence the Frumentarii efficiently. A few pregnant moments of pause slipped into the conversation, giving me a chance to regain my composure and return to the ceremony. Vulpes took a step back, his head bowed before me. "Of all your lieutenants, Caesar, you need worry about me the least."

I sighed. If anything, Vulpes was telling me truth for once. I had known him since he was a boy, and he owed his continued survival to me. His old superior had wanted him crucified and placed before my throne in Flagstaff, but I decided a use for him and gave him this new position. No, Vulpes's loyalty to me was not in question.

His loyalty to the Legion and the Caesar that ruled it was a different story.

In the evening, I received the Legate Lanius in my war tent.

Vulpes Inculta was missing from the meeting, and of all my senior officers, Lucius was the only one to overhear what transpired between Lanius and me. All of my other generals were either on route to Hoover Dam or were already in position, drilling their troops endlessly in final preparations for the battle. Of course, it would not start with Lanius marching around the Colorado to meet me here, and so the battle would be delayed until he could return. Needless to say, he was in a hurry.

After only a few steps inside my tent, the Legate dropped to his knees upon seeing me in the throne. "Caesar dictator."

"Rise." I immediately answered. The Legate obeyed me.

There was no warmth between the two of us. Unlike Vulpes, who I met as a promising young man, or Lucius, who was nearly as old as I was, I never raised any illusions as to the purpose of Lanius. He was a butcher, a murderer, a killer, a true Monster of the East. I was not a friend with him; I was not a comrade in arms with him. My role required that I use him as an instrument of my will, and his role required that he obey my every command without doubt. There was no room there for friendship.

The first Legate shared the same characteristics, though it was not only so. During that simpler time when we both had real names, there had been friendship. There had been a sense of camaraderie. Despite our differences in backgrounds and outlooks, we managed to laugh and smile and enjoy each other's company. I did not bear any significant love for him, nor was his absence dearly missed from my life. He was simply a friend, but that was a rare thing in the fucked up world I had been in.

But then I became Caesar, and he became the Malpais Legate. Once we assumed our new roles, any friendship we had quickly died. As he continued to perform atrocities at my bidding, destroying any opposition found in Arizona, we slowly fell apart. And when he failed me utterly and completely, the order to destroy him came easily to my lips.

But as I watched him plummet into the Grand Canyon, the fire wrapped around him and burning his flesh before my very eyes, I couldn't stop the strong sense of regret that had welled up in my stomach. It was a reflex to watching what was once a friend become destroyed by my own hand, and I quickly subdued any grief I might experience. The new Legate would not be a friend, I told myself. The new Legate would be someone that I detested, that I hated, but also respected.

With Lanius, I had the iron mask separating us to remind myself of his nature.

His voice, cold as a knife ripping through hot skin, cut through the space between us. "The last centurions from Flagstaff are arriving at my camp as we speak. The full might of the assembled Legion will drive across the Dam with ease."

Shaking my head, I leaned forward in my seat. "That is good. But your predecessor said much the same to me before the first battle, and he was cut down by his own confidence and stupidity. You must be cunning, Legate, and show patience. Rome will not be built in a day."

If anyone else repeated what I had just said to Lanius, he would have cut them down before they reached the end of their command. But I was Caesar, and while I still drew breath, the Legion and its Legate would bow before me.

Still, that didn't stop him from folding his arms and drawing his chin up. Figuratively speaking. "The first Legate was a fool to fall to the Rangers of the Bear. But with their Chief dead, the Rangers will show no such strength on this second battle. You have little to fear."

"Do I?" I raised my hand in wave, indicating the far side of the Colorado. "Eighty-six tribes against the nine states of the Bear, the Brotherhood of Steel, the Boomers in Nellis, and this new Securitron army? It will not be an easy battle, Lanius."

The Legate made a grunting noise, and bowed his head before me. "I understand, Caesar."

I nodded. "It is good that you do. In hoc signo taurus vinces." Under the sign of the Bull, you will win. "Vulpes tells me that President Kimball of the NCR will be arriving at the Dam on the twelfth. Our Frumentarii will assassinate him, and the Bear will weep for his death. A day after Kimball lies dead, pitch your camp on the far side of the Dam and begin the attack."

At this, Lanius clearly became angered. His voice, crawling out from under the mask, seethed with contempt. "You rely too much on Vulpes and his shadows."

"I will not hear a single word spoken against Vulpes, Lanius." I roared, with more strength than I was expecting to use. Silence prevailed in the camp as I lowered my voice drastically. "I am hereby entrusting the battle to you. I must remain here, but I will hear word of your battle soon enough."

The Legate bowed before me, and turned about to leave the tent immediately. I watched him walk away from me, and noticed how tightly his hands were clenched, his hard his footsteps became. I frowned, and leaned back in my throne as he left the tent completely.

Perhaps Vulpes was correct in some ways, I mused.

And that was when the tumor hit me.


End file.
